From the Ashes
by indyheart
Summary: Extreme OOC, AU after HBP – The war is over & Voldemort triumphs. What is left of the Order must go into hiding & a misunderstanding leaves Hermione stranded in a world where it is dangerous to use magic. Constantly on the run, fleeing for her life, everything hits the fan when she confronts a Death Eater. A whisper of rebellion, a quest for revenge & unexpected feelings arise.
1. Wrath

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to the brilliance that is J.K. Rowling.**

How had it felt for her to watch her best friend die?

For a few earth-shattering seconds, it had been impossible to feel anything at all.

But then it was cold. Like someone had dumped a barrel of ice water over her head and stabbed the ice-shards straight through into her heart. The mind-numbing shock of seeing the impossible with her own eyes had been unequivocally devastating. She had wanted to die too—and at first, it felt like she might. She had not been able to breathe.

Understandably, Hermione tried not to think about it too much. Numbness. Numbness was a lot safer. As much as she tried to push it away, the icy knife in her heart never really receded.

Every night. It never failed. Hermione's relentless mind would play the scene out before her weary eyes as she struggled to find composure and just a few moments of exhausted sleep.

_Harry, as he dropped his wand in exhaustion, his troubled eyes blinded by sweat. His hand as he gripped his heart and the overwhelming silence as he slid to the ground, seemingly in slow motion, first on one knee and then bent over, prostrate. Hermione had been close enough to hear the whispered name on his dying breath, the two syllables that lingered in the air long after Harry stopped breathing. Hermione's eyes had locked on her frantic friend as Ginny rushed towards Harry, Ginny's screams tearing through the air. _

"_Oh. Gin..." Harry had weakly gasped out, sounding strangled and unsure._

Hermione curled up on the cold ground, leaves rustling and sticking in her hair. With a desperate whimper, she pressed the palms of her hands forcefully over her eyes to stem the flow of images. The memories just got worse. With a growl, she began reciting the twelve uses for dragon's blood in a fierce and unrecognizable whisper, then Adalbert Waffling's many Fundamental Laws of Magic.

The sound of her hoarse voice always took her by surprise. She was not herself anymore. The night before, Hermione had carefully washed her hands and face in a small stream, her breath fogging the air as her teeth chattered. The unkempt girl reflected on the creek bed in the broken light of the full moon was another person entirely, a wild creature. Hermione's eyes had darkened regretfully at the sight she made; the dirt, the unspeakable grime. She had fingered her hair, always impossible, but now a mass of snarls, rat nests and disheartened braids. Her cinnamon and cocoa-like eyes were now skittish and cold.

She had scrubbed her face and her arms, despite the frigid cold water, until her exposed skin was red and blessedly clean. Tears had threatened to leak out of her eyes as she tried to clean her fingernails, but she had held them back. If she had allowed herself to cry, she was not sure how she would ever be able to stop.

That had been the last water she had seen and she was beginning to feel dehydrated. All day Hermione walked. She struggled and lived on the outskirts of farms, of Muggle neighborhoods, stealing food and newspapers as often as possible. Which wasn't that often. Tomorrow she would focus on finding water.

The last newspaper that she had confiscated came to mind and Hermione stared up at the huge sky-scraping trees, her breathing slowing as she contemplated once again the words she had found within the crisp pages.

**THE COUNTDOWN: SEVEN MORE DAYS**

_WORLD-CLASS CELEBRATION FOR ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY:_

_DESTRUCTION OF THE-BOY-WHO-FINALLY-DIED_

Ceremonies will officially begin on November the twentieth at four o'clock in the afternoon in the Dark Hall at Hogwarts. Leagues of His Eminence's many admirers have been flooding Hogwarts' gates as preparations are being made for the biggest and grandest event in Wizarding history. The famed Death Eaters and their servants are staying within the castle's many rooms and it has been rumored that preliminary festivities have already begun.

This colossal occasion is going to last for three days, with multiple balls, feasts and exceptional entertainment provided at every turn, culminating in a speech from His Eminence, Lord Voldemort himself on November the twenty-third at eight o'clock in the evening. When begged for a preview of his speech, Lord Voldemort serenely obliged. "Despite all of my great works," he said, his sonorous voice filling the room with awe, "the disintegration of the Golden Trio is my most prized success..."

Hermione's mind started racing. She needed to be there. Voldemort was guaranteed to be present—when would she find another chance to separate that pestiferous blob he called a head from his fragile neck? She did not even need her wand. Rage and an overpowering need for revenge filled her and Hermione shook slightly, aware that she was about to lose whatever feeble grip on reality she had been clinging to this past year.

She had to calm down. Breathing through her nose, Hermione closed her eyes and focused. She was not even sure where she was. The convenient thing to do would be to apparate outside of Hogsmeade and find her way in by stealth, she was low on time after all. She had learned early on, though, that only registered wizards, mostly pure-bloods, were allowed to use magic—anyone else was immediately apprehended. A situation that she had barely walked away from.

But.

Imagine if she was arrested. With such a treasure as the Hermione Granger in irons, surely that would merit Voldemort's attention. One minute with him, that was all she needed. She was so full of restrained magic at this point that she was sure nothing and no one could stop her.

She swallowed and glared at an innocent lizard making a winding route up the tree bark. It wasn't much of a plan, way too many holes and room for disaster. As her stomach rolled, Ron's lifeless blue eyes whispered through her mind and she gritted her teeth in determination. Hell's blazes, what had she left to lose? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Hermione took a few breaths to steady herself and then reached into her beaded bag for perhaps the last time. Warmth suffused her body as her fingers felt and gripped her vine wood wand for the first time in many months. Empowered and feeling a little dizzy, Hermione closed her eyes and focused all of her thoughts on the small rundown Shrieking Shack and disapparated.

A light breeze caressed her face and Hermione shivered. She opened her eyes and prepared to run. She barely made it ten steps away from the shack before she was tackled from behind and wrestled to the ground. The weight of her attacker knocked the wind out of her, but she fought his hold and struggled to catch her breath. With a sharp jerk, the pursuer flipped her around and pressed his crooked wand under her chin, forcing her head to tilt up.

As her hair fanned out behind her, the expression on the Death Eater's face froze. Nott's eyes widened and Hermione screamed when a jet of green light flew at her from behind Nott's back.

It was a shock when the Death Eater slumped over onto her body, lifeless and repugnant. Hermione struggled wildly to get out from underneath his deadweight until someone pulled him off of her, tossing him carelessly to the side.

A man almost as familiar to her as her own flesh and blood knelt before her and attempted to help her up. She pushed him away in anger and stood on her own.

"Miss Granger?" Severus stared at her, his mind still reeling in disbelief.

He immediately looked around warily, worried that someone might overhear. "What in Salazar's name are you doing here? I thought that you were—"

Hermione stalked up to him and openly glared into his weathered face. "What exactly, Snape? Dead?" She laughed and ignored his raised eyebrows at the lack of respect. "As much as I would be thrilled to make your day infinitely brighter, I'm afraid I'm still breathing after all of this time."

Severus tilted his head and making a quick decision, he held his hands up in a defensive gesture. In a low whisper, he tried to calm her down. "We cannot talk openly here." Granger continued to eye him distrustfully and Severus sighed, feeling exhausted. "Let me apparate us to my home and we can speak openly."

Hermione blanched and gripped her wand tightly. As she opened her mouth, he cut her off. "We can do this the hard way," he narrowed his eyes sharply at the blatant look of mutiny on her face, "or we can do this the easy way. Really, Miss Granger, which shall it be?"

Hermione lifted her wand and prepared to curse him when he silently stupefied her. Levitating her in the air, Severus walked towards her and frowned, then muttered darkly as he held onto her carefully. "You always were a right pain in the arse."

His eyes landed on Nott as he held the slip of a girl in his arms and Severus placed a disillusionment charm on the Death Eater to keep him out of sight until he could return. With a weary sigh and a building headache, Severus hesitated for a second before he took Miss Granger to his house on Spinner's End by side-along apparation.

Silence met him when he appeared inside his house and Severus let out a slow breath in relief. He was glad that everyone was asleep. Before releasing her, he systematically locked all of the doors and cast M_uffliato._ Severus set Miss Granger upon a chair, awkwardly propping her up a bit and eyed her warily. The girl looked half-starved and more than a little feral in this light.

He tapped his wand on his leg a few times in a distracted silence and then decided to get it over with. "Rennervate," he whispered slowly.

Hermione came to right away and looked around frantically first in fear but as her eyes landed on him, she stood up and advanced on him, anger rolling off of her in waves. "How dare you!"

Severus chuckled darkly and the low timbre of his voice was haunting. "How dare I? Shall I remind you that you were milliseconds away from cursing me?" He waited for a reply, but Hermione just folded her arms tightly and pointedly looked away. "This way was the better alternative, trust me. At least no one got splinched. Why don't you," he cleared his throat, "sit down?"

Hermione's eyes skittered towards him for a second at the unexpected request, but she remained standing. After an interminable silence, Severus conjured a tall round glass and filled it with water from the tip of his wand. He noticed that she was watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye and he approached her very slowly, much like one might approach a wild animal. He held it out to her and after a pause, she took it, careful to not touch his fingers.

Hermione sipped the water in silence and her stomach gurgled audibly as she savored the cool refreshing taste of pure water. Her limbs, especially her arms, were beginning to shake slightly and Hermione leaned against the wall in a half-surrender for comfort. She could hardly keep her eyes off of the room, her eyes were quickly taking in every detail. It had been too long, really, since she had been inside of a house.

Everything in this room was old and had obviously seen better days, but she had to admit, it was much tidier than she would have expected. If she had ever expected anything, that is. The candlelight was hurting her eyes so Hermione focused on the dark brown sofa in the corner. It was obvious, even to her, that the arms and cushions had been magically repaired several times.

When she had finished and he refilled the glass for her, Hermione met his inquisitive gaze. "What are we doing here?"

Severus crossed his arms and lifted a shoulder. "I think the more interesting question is, what were you doing using magic near the Shrieking Shack? Do you have any idea how many Death Eaters there are in that vicinity? How lucky you were that Nott and I were the only ones on late patrol?"

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe that was the idea."

Severus eyes narrowed dangerously and he inhaled sharply. "Get yourself caught? Is that the idea?" He grit his teeth for several seconds before he spit out three words. "_Are you mad?!"_

Hermione remained impassive and Severus gripped his head abruptly and turned away from her in disgust. His head was aching quite profusely now and he closed his eyes in an attempt to halt the onslaught of pain. Finally, he spoke slowly through clenched teeth, as if to a child. "Have you no idea how important you are—how relentlessly we would have moved hell and high water to _find _you if we had but known you were _alive? _You would throw your life away so easily? Miss Granger, you shock me."

Hermione's eyes watered, but otherwise, she made no indication that she even heard him.

Severus continued, his voice low and cutting. "I forsake everything to help the Order and you-you-you—"

"No! Don't give me that double-agent rubbish. It's not so hard to figure out what your motives have always been. You were never going to let yourself lose, were you, Snape? You bastard!" Severus whipped around and approached her menacingly, a tight expression making his face look like it was carved out of stone. Hermione was not intimidated. She continued, even as he towered over her. "You selfishly, with no regret whatsoever, played both sides so that you could win at any cost. I hope you're happy!"

She lost her head a little bit and slapped him. The sound reverberated around the room and Severus growled under his breath, his lip curling slightly. He shook her, gripping her shoulders tightly. "Contain yourself, woman! Use that overlarge brain of yours to consider that despite the Dark Lord's claims otherwise, the war is _not _over. You know nothing! As long as he stands enthroned, I have lost."

Severus gently shook her again for emphasis, the words pulled from deep within his gut. "I have lost everything."

Hermione wrenched herself out of his grasp and turned from him bitterly. "You? You think that _you _have lost everything?" She started laughing, a husky humorless cackle that took her breath away, but she could not seem to stop. As she reached the edge of the sitting room, her knees weakened and she leaned back upon the peeling surface of the wallpaper for support.

**A/N: Gratitude, thank you very much for reading! Please review?**

**From Harry Potter Wiki (about Hermione's wand and what it symbolized): "J. K. Rowling ****used a Celtic calendar to assign Hermione's wand wood based on her dob... In (it) the vine (for vine wood) is a symbol of passionate emotions in each extreme—both happiness and wrath."**

**Thank you RebeccaRipple for your wisdom and diligence. I appreciate your help so much!**


	2. Hope

_**What happened before: **Hermione wrenched herself out of his grasp and turned from him bitterly. "You? You think that you have lost everything?" She started laughing, a husky humorless cackle that took her breath away, but she could not seem to stop. As she reached the edge of the sitting room, her knees weakened and she leaned back upon the peeling surface of the wallpaper for support. _

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to the brilliance that is J.K. Rowling.**

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily and sat down on the edge of his chair, a jade baroque heirloom that he usually ignored. The cushion creaked and Severus rolled his wand in his fingers, uncertain of how to proceed. The girl looked on the verge of collapse. He cleared his throat and addressed her stiffly. "Miss Granger, there is much that you need to be informed of and I can promise to at least attempt to answer all of those questions I know are spinning in your head right now, but first, you need sustenance and er... perhaps you would like to use the... facilities?"

Hermione's head lifted slowly. She bit her lip and then nodded slowly. As he unfolded himself from his sitting position, his joints creaking audibly, Hermione's cheeks burned and she felt a trickle of remorse for her behavior. She probably should not have slapped him.

Snape paused at the furthest door and then was out of sight before Hermione could force her legs to move. She scurried after him and tried to ignore the painful ache in her muscles that seemed more prominent here in a normal setting. A soft glow emanated from an open door down the dreary hall and Hermione approached it slowly, her luminous eyes busy taking in the framed landscapes spread out along both walls. As she reached the doorway, she cautiously poked her head inside but nearly swooned when her nose recognized the aroma. Chicken. Surely her stomach had died and gone to heaven.

Snape was sifting through the ice-box awkwardly and Hermione held back a hysterical titter at the sight. When he turned, he had two bottles of butterbeer in one hand and a wrapped bowl in the other. Hermione crossed her arms, tucking her hands securely underneath her elbows to keep herself from snatching the food right out of his fingers. As his eyes caught hers in their dark trap, his mouth flickered in a whisper of a smile so brief Hermione was unsure of its very existence. He added the items to the spread on the table and indicated for her to sit.

Severus quickly warmed up the rest of the leftovers, then opened his bottle of butterbeer with a satisfying chssssh. While she hesitantly sat down, he turned his back on her to rummage in a overhead cabinet with one hand, taking a sip of the fizzy beverage as he did so.

Soon, his long fingers enclosed a small bottle and he set it next to her, nodding at her once before going to stand in front of the window. He took another sip and studiously ignored her small moans as she ate bite after bite of the baked chicken and potato soup.

Without turning, he addressed her quietly. "Take the Pepper-Up potion as soon as you are finished and then you may see to your needs. It's going to be a long night, if my memories of your insatiable curiosity serve me correctly." He finished his drink and tossed it in the bin. Filling a glass with water, he continued. "Try not to overdo it, miss Granger, there is no need to make yourself ill," he paused and frowned at the windowpane, "you'll not have to worry about going hungry again."

Hermione slowed down and sedately chewed the chicken in silence. Her brow furrowed as she stared at this strange man's back. His shoulders were straight and tense, as if he sensed her gaze, but she rather wondered if he ever relaxed.

Hermione's stomach began to cramp and she grimaced, immediately taking small sips of her butterbeer. She pressed her hand to her protesting stomach and sighed, then uncapped the Pepper-Up potion with her right hand. The potion tasted horrible, much fouler than usual, but a steady warmth was spreading throughout her body, like a rush of lava, taking out any aches in its path. Her ears exhaled forcefully for several seconds and she sighed contentedly after they had finally stopped spewing steam. She felt better than she had in a long time.

Hermione stood and stretched like a cat, savoring the succor her body felt. She knew that the assuagement was temporary, but that did little to hinder the relief she was experiencing. Hermione caught up with Snape easily this time and he turned towards her when he reached a beige door with a large porcelain door handle.

"Try to make it as quick as possible, miss Granger," Severus said uncomfortably, "There is much to discuss, things you must know before the night's end." He paused and sighed, then removed his cloak. "Here." He furrowed his brow and held his wand to the supple material. Quickly the cloak separated and transfigured into a simple set of Wizarding robes and a thicker, though smaller, cloak. He handed the articles to her and walked away, speaking as he trod on the tired, worn carpet. "I'll be in the kitchen when you are finished."

Hermione stared down at the clothes in her hands and then looked up with a quizzical expression on her face, just catching sight of his back as he turned a corner and proceeded out of view. Hermione stood there for an uncertain minute and then with a shake of her head, she gingerly reached out and turned the large white door handle. Hermione walked in the dark room and was just turning, searching for a lantern, candle, something of that sort when her eyes widened upon a peculiar sight. Next to the door, visible from the light shining in from the hallway, was a muggle light switch.

Hermione frowned and flipped the switch up. The temptation to track Snape down and sate her curiosity was almost overwhelming, but the idea of being clean was an enticing carrot indeed. Bloody mysterious man. She swept the room with her eyes and was a little unsure where to begin. Her gaze crashed to a halt when she saw her reflection. Walking slowly, she approached the massive oval mirror. The shiny surface was enclosed in a delicate but chilling carved onyx, the design depicted interweaving snakes and roses. The overall effect was disturbingly beautiful.

Hermione gritted her teeth and ignored the mirror's cold laughter. "Tsk, tsk child, we have let ourself go, haven't we? Now here's a solid piece of advice, not that you deserve it, mind you, but nevertheless: in the top drawer of that dresser just there you'll find a pair of scissors. Best to chop that mop off before it gets any worse," the mirror snickered, "if that is even possible."

Hermione turned away in distaste and muttered under her breath, "Nice. Fantastic. An _inanimate_ _object_ with a ruddy sense of humor."

Well, she considered, it wasn't exactly a bad idea. She opened the drawer and withdrew the large black scissors, the dull metal heavy in her hand. Closing her eyes tight, Hermione tried to pull her hair out but most of it was stiff and wouldn't move. Next to her scalp, she wedged the scissors in and began sawing awkwardly.

The mirror tittered, "Oh dear me, I truly have seen everything now," it exclaimed loudly.

This blasted thing was really getting on her nerves.

Hermione frowned and continued until most of her hair was lying in a chaotic pile at her feet. Merlin, Hermione thought, she looked like a plucked chicken. The mirror was sputtering incoherently now, beside itself with mirth. She frowned at her reflection and shrugged. She would feel better after washing.

Hermione eyed the bathtub in the corner, a classic claw-foot tub just like the one that her parents had owned. The simple lines were understated and plain, but she thought it might just be the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on. She bit her lip and decided to wash off as much as possible in the shower and then she could soak up to her nose in bubbles.

Washing was magnificent, but took awhile longer than she had anticipated. Twenty minutes had passed before Hermione started to run her bath and in the back of her mind she hoped that Snape did not mind to be kept waiting. Well, not too much, at any rate. She was pretty sure that he could get rather annoyed very easily. Hermione had nearly fallen asleep in the suds-filled tub, her fingers lazily playing with a few of the many iridescent bubbles. Unconsciously, she had been taking deep calming breaths of the lavender scent, happily soaking the sweet perfume into every pore on her body.

Just as her eyes fell shut, someone knocked on the door, a quick but insistent rap. Hermione sat up, still somewhat in a daze and climbed out of the tub clumsily. The knocking had not stopped and she called out softly, "Just a moment."

She could hear a loud yawn and a few mumbled words. Hermione found a large green robe and put it on, towel drying her hair in the process. She threw the towel in the general direction of the wicker laundry basket and opened the door a crack, cutting off the next knock. "I'm sorry, Snape, I know I got carried away..." Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the rumpled long red hair and slightly darker bristly beard. Brown eyes equally startled stared back at her and he took two steps backwards. "Hermione?"

The door widened and she gaped at him, her mind reeling. She told herself that it wasn't Ron, that wasn't possible. Hadn't she dragged his lifeless body away from the wreckage at the Final Battle herself? She shook her head and stared at him, taking in the freckles and the good humor that was always present on his face. Finally, she asked in a whisper, "George?"

He nodded, his hair falling in his face. Suddenly he grinned and came up to her, hugged her tightly and began spinning her around, laughing. Hermione was laughing at first as well but as he made a final spin, suddenly she was crying. He set her toes back on the ground and she tightened the embrace, holding onto him fiercely, afraid to let go. Afraid that this wasn't real. That at any moment, he could disappear; that she would be left grasping onto smoke and nothing more.

His voice sounded a little strangled when he squeezed her and then held her face in his hands, staring down at her. "I cannot believe it. You're alive. I can't believe it. Luna insisted, but..." He trailed off and they both jumped when Snape cleared his throat pointedly a few paces away.

"Well, well, well, miss Granger."

Hermione turned about eight shades of red and turned towards his voice, the timbre low,velvety and entirely dangerous. Snape's mouth twitched, as if he was fighting a smile and he rolled his eyes subtly at George. "Cavorting with a married man in the middle of the night, didn't know you had it in you."

Hermione stared at George and he grinned at her, blushing slightly. "You're married? To whom? How wonderful!" She hugged him again and Snape coughed.

George made a face at his former professor and shook his head. "Shut it, Snape."

The two transferred information silently by way of facial expressions behind Hermione's back. A raised eyebrow here, a glare there-until finally, Severus' cheeks blossomed in a flame of red and George smirked smugly.

**A/N: Well... one cat out of the bag. Please review? More coming soon! Many thanks to RebeccaRipple for betaing for me. :) Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, or added From the Ashes to their Favorites list. I appreciate you so much!**


	3. EVENING

_**What happened before: **George made a face at his former professor and shook his head. "Shut it, Snape."_

_The two transferred information silently by way of facial expressions behind Hermione's back. A raised eyebrow here, a glare there-until finally, Severus' cheeks blossomed in a flame of red and George smirked smugly._

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to the brilliance that is J.K. Rowling.**

George let Hermione go and tweaked her gently on the nose. "I'll join you two later. You've got... business to take care of, and er, I have my own... business to attend to, so—"

Severus sighed. "No more details, please, Mr. Weasley. We'll be in the kitchen if you're beside yourself with insomnia or hunger. I must ask that you do not wake anyone else up." He eyed George sharply until George grinned and nodded, then waved cheekily at Hermione, subtly pushing her back into the bathroom.

The door shut behind her and in an effort to ignore the muffled voices coming from outside of it, Hermione hurriedly dressed and cleaned up her mess. With one last disparaging look at her hair in the mirror, she opened the bathroom door and for the first time in almost a year, she grinned. Hope was a heady feeling.

At the sound of her emergence, the two men turned towards her. With a mock-salute at Snape and a teasing elbow in her ribs as he passed, George entered the bathroom and shut the door. Hermione stood there awkwardly watching the closed expression on Snape's face out of the corner of her eye. She took a deep breath, about to ask him about George, when he found his voice. "Shall we adjourn to the kitchen then? I have the feeling that I am going to need some coffee..." He started down the hall and she could just barely make out the mumbling under his breath, "...lots and lots of coffee."

When they arrived in the kitchen, Snape pulled out a chair, then walked around the table and headed towards a dark corner. A flip of a switch later and Hermione was watching him selecting a pan, then filling it with water. Hermione cleared her throat and eyed him curiously, her brow furrowed. "Why would a wizard's home have electricity, Professor?"

He neither turned to face her nor answered her question. Hermione waited impatiently while he tinkered with the old gas-powered stove. The pilot switch clicked a few times before he sighed, then lit the burner with his wand. As he adjusted the size of the flame, Hermione cleared her throat again. "I thought you promised to answer some of my questions, Professor?"

His back remained towards her as he spoke up, "I was under the impression that you would not be wasting my time with questions you already know the answer to."

Hermione's brow furrowed further, and she opened her mouth, but then shut it with a snap. Bugger it all, she was silly, wasn't she? Heat spread across her face and another minute passed before she spoke. "You inherited this house, of course. We must be on Spinner's End."

"Correct, miss Granger, as always, though not quite as punctual as usual."

Was he making a joke? Hermione let out a nervous chuckle, crossed her arms in a defensive gesture and began to fully take in the room for the first time. The once white and green vertically striped wallpaper was yellowing from old age, intermittent brown age-spots and bubbles testifying to its woebegone existence. A massive diamond shaped cast-iron and oak candelabra hung low over the large but simple rectangular oak dining table, a nod to the magical side of its owner. The soft glow was calming, like a forgotten dream of a lifetime of candlelit meals at Hogwarts and the stark light from the Muggle bulb over the sink was disorienting in contrast.

All of the fixtures and cabinets were a bit careworn, but quite spotless. A wide wine-rack, almost rustic in appearance, spanned the space over a door opposite her, firmly situated between two sets of cabinets with open shelving. One cabinet displayed an impressive set of wine stemware and the opposite was full of all other forms of glasses, from goblets, mugs, down to a few dainty teacups.

"This is so surreal," Hermione murmured under her breath.

Snape poured the boiling water into a percolator coffee pot and tapped his long fingers on the counter. Finally turning around, he held his hand out with a hint of impatience. "You may sit down, you know," he raised his eyebrow at her and Hermione looked at the pulled-out chair, as if noticing it for the first time.

"Oh," she sat in the heavy straight-back chair gingerly, her short frame just barely allowing her feet to settle upon the chipped linoleum floor. Her butterbeer was still on the table, so Hermione took a few sips of it and tried to decide what to ask first. "Who is George married to?"

He set the timer for the coffee and then took a seat opposite her. Merlin, but this was a bit intimidating. "He's married to his wife, of course."

Hermione raised her bottle to her lips, taking another sip, in an attempt to stem a retort, when he continued. "You would be accustomed to addressing her as Luna, I think." His eyebrows rose when Hermione started choking on her drink, sputtering in surprise.

"He married Luna?"

She was dumbfounded. And a little in awe of her friend. Luna was a year younger than herself... there was no imaginable way that Hermione could even conceive of the word marriage for at least another... hundred years or so. If ever.

"Yes, indeed so. This has been a most... interesting year, if nothing else. Would you like to know who else is staying here, besides the... happy couple?" He looked as if the words had nearly choked him on their way out.

Hermione nodded eagerly, feeling a little nauseated. For the most part, she was not quite certain who had survived. She had given up hope... She set her bottle down and gripped her hands tensely together in her lap, between her legs.

She closed her eyes tightly.

"Please, tell me."

Severus pretended to ignore the desperation radiating off of her in waves. "Okay, Arthur and Molly Weasley are here, Ginevra as well. Mr. Longbottom, always trying my patience, is just down the hall. And Pomona—Professor Sprout."

An indeterminable silence filled the room until Hermione covered her eyes with shaking hands. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, is that all? We're quite as tight as sardines in here, I assure you."

"No... no, I mean, did anyone else make... make it?"

"Ah. Well, nothing is a certainty, but yes, there are other safe-houses out there. I could not say how many are better equipped than this one. There is no Fidelius Charm, you see, since the location of where I lived outside of Hogwarts has always been common knowledge. Occasionally, we will have a refugee or two who is just passing through. There is very limited communication, as you can imagine. But Minerva and I are in fairly consistent contact—she has been running wizard and muggle refugees alike to safe-houses and borders alike. Rubeus, from the last that I have heard, has been successfully rallying the giants for an attack on Hogwarts—"

"-attack Hogwarts?"

He paused and eyed her steadily, his black eyes filled with an alarming amount of determination. "It's not over yet, miss Granger. For the past three months, we have been mobilizing. The anniversary is the first open strike." He took a breath and then caught her by surprise. "I do not know if you realize what finding you will do for the Order. It has been a hard, decimating year, miss Granger, but I think that now, they will be... emboldened."

"But I'm just—"

"-the brightest witch of your age. I loathe how many times I've had to listen to those words. Insufferably annoying or not," he paused, a teasing gleam in his eye, "it's true."

Hermione stared up at the shadowed ceiling, straining to hold her eyes open for just a few more seconds, to digest a portion of the turns her life had taken in the past several hours. George had joined them and the camaraderie between himself and Snape was really strange for her to witness. They were not openly friendly, but yet... a mutual respect was peeking through the conversation. Dry wit passed back and forth between them easily, and she had stared at them. Just stared.

When Hermione dozed off at the table, George had dragged her off to the living room and held her up while Snape widened the couch a fair amount and conjured sheets, blankets and a pillow. Her head was resting on a pillow. Her fogged brain was not uncertain that she had not died and was not now dozing in heaven, resting her head upon a cloud. Hermione yawned, a jaw-cracking and eye-closing yawn that left a small smile on her face. George had patted her on the head and promised to wake her up early, that she should expect copious amounts of screaming and fussing.

Hermione smiled again.

Her head was resting on a pillow.

**A/N: Please review?**


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